


Could've Been Okay

by housebyside



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Alternative Universe - Minigolf, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-02 05:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/housebyside/pseuds/housebyside
Summary: A series of unlucky events happen to Cavendish that lead him to be stuck at a minigolf course in the middle of an unfamiliar city.A minigolf course is the only and best place for a meet-cute anyway.





	1. Just Plain Terrible

**Author's Note:**

> Several word processors are telling me "minigolf" is two words, uh fuck that.

It was just his luck really that all four tires popped as he drove to the first rehearsal at the new venue. Balthazar Cavendish shook his head as he listened to his tires slowly deflating, blowing out air like the flute section playing at slightly different pitches. The car finally sunk to the ground with a clank and Cavendish hoped the conductor would understand. It was his luck that his tires popped, but it must have been working overtime for his phone to fly off of the passenger’s chair and out the window smashing into the pavement when he had stopped so suddenly over the nails lying in the road. He had to find a phone, call the conductor to inform her he’d be late, call a mechanic, then call a cab. He attempted to open his car door to get his jacket containing his wallet. The clicking of the resisting door handle nicely complimented the beat of curses in his head as he stared through the window at his keys sitting, mockingly on the driver’s seat. 

He walked to the closest building, a small shack painted with now peeling white paint and a sign with yellows, oranges, and reds that may have been vibrant and welcoming when it opened but the colors were now sun baked to pastels. Cavendish read the sign aloud with a sort of disbelief at its very existence, “Minigolf Adventure Land?” He sighed and looked beyond the wire gates at a park of bricked in miniature green fields. Perhaps it was not the strangest place to end up, but it was definitely up there. He considered, briefly, knocking on the door, but that wasn’t how businesses worked, he reminded himself. The mixture of nearly everything going wrong with his car mixed with the fact he was about to enter a miniature golf place within a city was throwing him off. He finally pushed through the door as a dull bell rang its best. 

The shack was small. Most of the room was taken up with racks of different sized, but all falling within the category of “miniature”, putters. The floor was fake plastic grass that was almost entirely ripped up in the center of the room. In the far corner, near a propped open screen door leading to the green: a counter, a man, and a couple hundred multicolored golf balls sat. The counter had that same peeling white paint as the outside, the man was mostly obscured by the paper he was reading, and the golf balls were neon bright colors that probably matched the decor at some point but now were noticeably out of place. 

“Uh hello?” Cavendish approached the counter as the man lowered his newspaper. 

“Hey,” The man, dressed in a red and yellow sweatsuit but no visible name tag, smiled and pushed up his yellow tinted sunglasses, “You’re not here for minigolf.”

“Uh well, yes,” Cavendish said, the conversation was already deviating from his prepared scripted version of it, “How did you know?”

“You’re wearing a suit and a hat,” the man shrugged, “probably good shoes too. No one minigolfs in a suit.”

“Yes well I’m supposed to be in an orchestra,” Cavendish explained then trailed off, the minigolf man didn’t need to know that, “anyway my car, the tires popped.”

“All of them?” The man asked but he didn’t sound surprised.

“Yes actually,” Cavendish said smiling a lopsided also frown, “And my phone broke as well.”

“Hmm,” the man hummed almost suspiciously as he looked to the door, “well we’ve got one over there,” he pointed to a corded phone hung up on the wall on the other side of the room, “knock yourself out.”

“Thank you very much sir,” Cavendish dipped his head slightly in thanks.

“Sir?” The man mumbled to himself as he picked his newspaper back up. 

As Cavendish rang his conductor, explained himself, and got referred to a mechanic, the dull bell at the door rang again. 

“Ah Melissa! Milo! Zack!” the man put down his paper and began pulling out score cards and miniature pencils.

“Hey Dakota,” the kid in the sweater vest who seemed to be “Milo” bounced up to the counter as one of the golf ball boxes tipped over spilling most of the contents onto the fake grass ground. 

“Hey kids, I had a feeling you were showing up today,” the man, or Dakota, said as the three kids helped him pick up the golf balls. 

“Why’s that?” Milo asked.

“I just had a feeling,” Dakota said glancing up at Cavendish, which he didn’t understand at all.

“Today we’re going to try to get to the eighteenth hole,” the one he called Zack said.

“And we’re not gonna skip the underwater world hole this time, right Zack?” the third kid who must have been Melissa crossed her arms and looked pointedly at him. 

“Uh, yeah!” Zack said, although it was closer to a squeak. 

“I hope you make it this time, last time you got so close,” Dakota said putting the box of golf balls back in its place. 

“Sorry about the windmill again, really!” Milo said.

“It was nothing duct tape and plywood couldn't fix,” Dakota said as the box of golf balls tipped over again, “I’ll get this one, you kids go on ahead. I believe in you.”

“Wanna bet on it?” Melissa asked him.

“I don’t place bets with patrons, let alone like an eighth-grader,” Dakota said, “Anyway, do y’all have your helmets?”

“Milo would never forget them,” Zack said as he took three helmets out of Milo’s bag and passed them out. 

“And I brought extras, just in case” Melissa said.

“So did I!” Milo said.

“I did too,” Zack admitted.

“Helmets?” Cavendish found himself saying it out loud and immediately regretted it as the kids turned to look at him. Gawk was a better word for it, they seemed to be, inspecting him? 

“Hey kids didn’t anyone teach you it’s not nice to stare, come on you’ve got a lot of minigolfing to get through,” Dakota said making the “shoo” motion. 

The three kids shared a look between them, one that only kids could make. It seemed to be a whole silent conversation in the span of a few seconds. They all glanced back at both Dakota and Cavendish one more time then headed outside. Dakota thought he heard them whispering as they left. He shook his head, “Kids, y’know?” 

Cavendish had been put on hold by the mechanic during that whole exchange, so he smiled awkwardly at Dakota as the mechanic finally got back to him. 

“Oh yes, thank you.”

Dakota began putting the spilled golf balls back in their container for the second time in ten minutes. The only positive of the rough fake grass floor was that it stopped them from rolling too far away.

“Yes, Yes, all four tires, yes all four.”

Dakota hadn’t heard any crashes from outside yet, so the kids were getting through minigolf alright so far.

“You can’t be here any sooner?”

Dakota looked up over the counter as he grabbed the last stray golf ball. 

“Yes, but all of my stuff is locked in the car.”

He saw Cavendish’s shoulders sag and tried not to look like he was watching him as he put the box back in its place once again.

“No, I understand. Thank you.” Cavendish hung up the phone gently and sighed.

“That your mechanic?” Dakota asked.

“Yes it was,” Cavendish returned to the counter looking pretty exhausted, “the mechanic that won’t be here for over two hours.”

“Yeesh,” Dakota said leaning over the counter towards him, “you can stay here if you’d like.”

“That is very kind, sir, but I couldn’t possibly distract you from customers,” Cavendish said hurriedly.

“What customers? It’s like four P.M. on a Thursday, those kids are the only ones who come here during the week and not the fancy, and complicated, new minigolf course across town,” Dakota explained, “Hey! While you're here, why not play a couple rounds with me!”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly! I can’t pay my wallet is locked in my car,” Cavendish explained. 

Dakota waved his hand and smiled wide, “It’s on the house, the “Pop Four Tires, Get One Minigolf Game Free” special.”

“Well, if you really don’t mind accompanying me,” Cavendish said slowly, “I suppose I don’t have much else to do around here,” he put his hand out for a handshake, “I’m Balthazar Cavendish.”

Dakota looked sideways at the hand outstretched but shrugged and took it, shaking hands eagerly, “And I’m Vinnie Dakota, call me Dakota though, everyone does.” 

“Alright Dakota,” Cavendish nodded to him and picked up an appropriately sized putter, “Just so you know I’ve never played minigolf before and it’s been some years since I’ve played the less miniature golf,” he said haltingly, not sure if calling golf “normal” or “regular” would offend Dakota or not.

“That won’t be a big deal, Cav,” Dakota looked for confirmation that his immediate conception of a nickname within minutes of finding out his name was okay. 

Cavendish found he didn’t mind it so nodded, “Oh well, then I’m ready.”

Dakota pulled out a scorecard, a mini-pencil, two golf balls, and a club of his own then continued in a overly dramatic voice, “Are you ready for a trip through time?” 

“Uh perhaps?” Cavendish said as he followed Dakota outside to the course and realized what he had meant. Each hole on the course had a different era theme. From the entrance he could see dinosaurs, pyramids, and in the distance he saw models of factories. 

Dakota set down a neon green ball at the start of the first hole, a sign announced it was par four, “Guests go first, I’m pretty sure at least.”

“Ah yes,” Cavendish bent over the putter and hit the ball a little too gently and watched it roll only halfway down the green and bounce into a brick. Not bad positioning but not great either, he assessed.

“Pretty good for a first timer,” Dakota smiled, his eyes squinting in the mid afternoon sun, “now it’s my turn.” Dakota set down a bright orange golf ball and looked toward the hole, his tongue stuck out a bit and he seemed to Cavendish to be assessing something or perhaps checking the wind? He readied his swing and slammed the club into the ball. Cavendish watched as the ball sailed over the hole, bounced off the next hole’s pyramid display, and finally splashed into a water hazard. Dakota put a hand over his eyes to shield from the sun and looked out to where his ball landed, “I’ll go get it.”

“Dakota?” Cavendish said.

“Hm?” he responded.

“Are you perhaps, bad at minigolf?”

“Awful. Just plain terrible actually,” he said it with misplaced pride and a unbeatable grin. 

“Hm.” was all Cavendish could say to that. 

They played the next four holes with a similar level of success, taking much longer than a normal minigolf game Cavendish assumed with all the time it took for Dakota to fish his golf ball out of the ponds almost every time. 

“So Cav,” Dakota said as he hit the ball against the edge of the course causing it to bounce back right to the start, “You said you’re in a, a orchestra?”

“Yes,” Cavendish said, “I’m a pianist actually.”

“Hey that’s pretty cool man,” Dakota said as he lined up another shot, “It’d be cool to see an orchestra and your piano skills.”

“That’s very kind,” Cavendish said as he watched the same thing happen to Dakota’s shot for the fifth time in a row, “We’re playing a concert tomorrow at the new concert hall in town. I’m afraid it’s sold out, an important diplomat is supposed to be coming to see it.”

“Oh yeah, I saw something in the news about that,” Dakota said.

“Then after that show our company will be back on the road, assuming my car is fixed and all four of my tires don’t simultaneously pop.”

“I assure you, wherever you’re going that probably won’t happen again,” Dakota said finally hitting the ball somewhat near where it is supposed to go.

“Why is that?” Cavendish asked.

“Trust me,” Dakota said and hit the ball into another water hazard. 

“What about you Dakota?” Cavendish asked.

“What? Oh what do I do?” Dakota said as he braced himself for the unreasonably cold, dyed extra blue water, “Suck at minigolf mostly. I own this place after all. It’s not super busy this time of year, or week, or really ever? There’s a cooler place across town, I’ve been, to check out the competition. I usually get the overflow from that place on the weekends so it’s not too bad. And those three kids come here once a week or so.”

“They like this course a lot then,” Cavendish said.

“Well, they are all banned from the other one so that might have something to do with it,” Dakota shrugged as he dropped the dripping golf ball back on the green.

“Banned?” As Cavendish spoke a crash came from farther out in the course, “What on Earth?”

“There’s your answer,” Dakota said as he finally hit the shot in the hole, “They’re fine. Mark plus, uh six? On the card.”

They eventually made it to the final hole only to find pieces of models of what the creators thought the distant year of 2001 would look like scattering the ground. They got there just in time to see Milo tap his golf ball into the final hole. 

“Yes! We did it!” He cried jumping up in the air.

“Do you think the ball landing in an eagle's mouth is a plus two or a plus three hazard?” Melissa asked consulting the score card. 

“Three, for each baby that tried to eat it,” Zack supplied. 

“In that case I won,” Melissa said.

“Congrats Melissa!” Milo said as his putter, that when Cavendish last saw it, was not taped in the middle, cracked in half. 

“The real victory is that we all made it through to the end, and we only had to chase one car this time,” Zack said nodding seriously. 

“Nice job kids,” Dakota clapped for them, “I’ll have the scorecard framed and everything.”

“Hey Dakota, sorry about the windmill again,” Milo said as Cavendish looked at the futuristic windmill that laid on the ground in a thousand pieces, “I can help you fix it!”

“It’s no problem Milo, it needed updating anyhow. Well, kids, Cavendish, it seems Minigolf Adventure Land is going to have to close for maintenance today so let’s head back to the shack.”

The group made their way to the old counter. Dakota put the scorecards somewhere safe and the rest put their putters and balls away. 

“See you kiddos later,” Dakota said.

“Yeah we’ll be back to conquer the course again! I feel on top of the world!” Milo proclaimed as the racks of putters tipped into each other spilling the hundreds of putters onto the floor, Milo deflated a little, “Well, win some lose some.” 

“I’ll take care of it, you kids run along,” Dakota said.

“Thanks Dakota,” Zack said.

“Yeah see you, and you Cavendish,” Melissa said as she, Zack, and Milo headed home.

“Good kids,” Dakota said as he assessed the damage.

Cavendish peered out the front window and saw his car jacked and the mechanic fitting the last new tire on. “It seems my car is almost ready.”

“Well I won’t keep you any longer,” Dakota said.

“I’d feel horrid to leave you to pick this all up yourself after you’d shown me such kindness today,” Cavendish explained.

“No it’s fine really! This happens every week, I’ve got a system worked out now,” he explained, “Sides, you gotta practice, big concert tomorrow.”

“Well actually,” Cavendish stopped himself, Dakota didn't need to know that, in the corner of his eye he saw the mechanic get his door unlocked. 

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you Cavendish,” he said and he put out his hand.

Cavendish took it and shook it, “Same to you Dakota.” Cavendish walked to the door but turned around, “I’m leaving after the concert tomorrow,” Dakota’s eyebrow raised, “But I’ll come by before the show and help you fix the windmill, it’s the least I can do.”

A small smile built on Dakota’s face, “I know a good sub place that delivers.”

“I’ll see you then Dakota,” Cavendish nodded to him.

Dakota leaned against the counter and gave a brief wave, “See you then.”

The feeling in Cavendish’s chest as he drove and throughout rehearsal was indescribable but it reminded him of the look of the faded sign to the minigolf course.


	2. Horribly, and I Mean Horribly Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, mini-golf, with the hyphen, looks super dumb

Cavendish drove more carefully than he ever had before. He didn’t know what he’d do if he were to be stranded somewhere else far away from both his meeting with Dakota and the concert. He found himself holding his breath in the car for unreasonable stretches of time before realizing what he was doing and letting the air out in an uncomfortable huff. Was he nervous? Through his careful assessment: there was the holding his breath situation, the hands gipping the wheel situation, and the warm feeling in his temples situation so all signs pointed to yes. He let out another too long held breath as a sigh. 

Fortunately, he and his car made it to Minigolf Adventure Land unharmed. After parking, and again fighting the urge to knock, he entered the shack as the sun started to set up for setting. Dakota was not sitting behind the counter, but the screen door to the green was propped open like an invitation. Cavendish shifted on his feet, wondering if he should go outside or wait. He looked around the room and saw that all the putters were neatly put back in their places. He decided to head outside. 

He found Dakota sitting on the eighteenth hole. He’d cleaned it up some from the disastrous state it was in the day before and had the pieces of the displays, along with some tools that Cavendish only vaguely knew the purpose for, circling him in an order that probably made sense to him. Dakota had one hand gripping some of his curly brown hair as he stared down at an instruction manual or a blueprint perhaps. Cavendish cleared his throat and attempted to make as much noise with his footsteps as possible. 

Dakota looked up, his look of concentration quickly switched to a smile, “Hey Cav!” He stood up and carefully took big steps over the windmill pieces to greet him. 

“Hello Dakota,” Cavendish felt the heat in his temples begin travelling to his forehead and his cheeks, he cleared his throat again unnecessarily, “So, what the plan?”

Dakota held up the bundle of papers he had been examining, “I found this thing in the old shed behind hole nine, It was covered in tons of dust. Be glad you missed it, it was like sneeze city in there,” Dakota unravelled it, “It’s the plans for the original course and all the mini-cities,” Dakota handed them to Cavendish.  


They were, they were, “What does this mean?” Cavendish pointed to some of the numbers.

“I have no idea!” They were illegible. Dakota put his hands on his hips and smiled with what might have been the only genuine smirk Cavendish had ever seen, “I kinda hoped you’d know.”

“Sorry, I’ve had no experience with this kind of notation,” he said handing them back feeling a little useless, “If it had been sheet music, perhaps we could have had something.”

“If only we could jam this thing back together,” Dakota shrugged and moved back to the jigsaw puzzle of windmill pieces. 

“I don’t really “jam” either,” Cavendish said a little lamely, air quotes and all as he followed Dakota to the mess. 

“I thought you played classical?” Dakota asked.

“Yes,” Cavendish said glancing down. 

“Then of course you jam, nothing bops like Bach I always say,” Dakota said, “Well, I guess I don’t always say it, but it sounded cool, right?”

In addition to the burning face, his heart was also beating rather quickly, “Yes, quite cool.”

“I’m sure if we put our heads together a windmill will at some point just happen,” Dakota said sitting down and picking up one of the windmill's blades. 

Cavendish smiled rather shyly, and picked up another blade, “We have to have enough skill combined.”

“Or perhaps one could drop out of the sky?” Dakota asked, he waited a few seconds scanning the sky, nothing, “Worth a shot.”

“I think there is a middle bit that connects these two?” Cavendish said, holding his piece against the light as if that would change it into what it needed to be. 

“I think there are supposed to be more?” Dakota said looking around and finding none, “This might take a while. I’ll order the food.”

By the time the subs arrived, Cavendish and Dakota had cobbled together what a cubist might refer to as a mess of a windmill. The two sat on the bricked edge of one of the taller section of hole seventeen. Their half eaten sandwiches sat between them. Dakota held a to-go soft drink cup up to the sun that was getting serious about setting. “Sky’s a nice red,” Dakota said gesturing with the straw sticking out, and it was: it was a deep dark red that faded into pink the further from the sun it got, “Is it red in the morning or night where sailors are supposed to freak out?”

“Morning I think,” Cavendish supplied, not taking his eyes too far off his water bottle, “But it could be night also. It’s an old wives tale anyway.”

“Bad luck can happen at any time, is the motto I would go by,” Dakota said, “If I needed a motto.”

“Oh? Do you already have one?” Cavendish asked looking into Dakota’s sunglassed eyes. 

“No, but the thing is I don’t need a motto,” Dakota explained gesturing wildly with the cup and turning to seemingly adress the sun, “Ha! Y’know what? That’s the real motto: No mottos.” 

“A bit circular,” Cavendish said lightly.

“Second motto: Contradict yourself,” Dakota looked at him grinning a grin that looked like he was excited to see Cavendish also grinning. They both huffed a quick breathy laugh that lasted a few seconds till Dakota looked up at him with a more settled smile, “So, are you excited about the concert?”

“Well,” Cavendish hesitated, Dakota didn’t really need to know this but, it felt so nice to talk with him, it felt natural and easy and maybe Dakota would want to know, he eased into it, “Not particularly, no.”

Dakota’s expression fell into one closer to confusion, “Oh. Sorry Cav,” he scratched the back of his head.

“It’s perfectly alright,” Cavendish said, “It’s not that I’m not excited to play or that I hate I’m in a travelling orchestra, it’s a privilege really.”

“Oh, do mind me asking?” Dakota said.

“No I don’t mind,” Cavendish shook his head, “I just don’t enjoy it.”

“You don’t?” Dakota asked.

“It might be silly,” Cavendish explained.

“No, no it won’t be I promise,” Dakota said putting his hands out in a woah, wait gesture. 

“Well, if there’s one thing orchestra lacks it’s excitement,” Cavendish admitted, “Bach does not, in fact, bop,” Dakota’s smile made a reappearance at that, “I know plenty of people who, when they play their music, feel an amazing rush and the end of a good performance is thrilling, but I’ve never felt that.”

“What would you want to do then?” Dakota asked, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t know,” Cavendish sighed, “I think, sometimes, that I should have been a pilot or a racecar driver, but I don’t think those are quite right either.” They sat in silence for a moment as the sun dipped lower and washed the green grass with dark red, as if the sky was a giant stained glass window. “Dakota,” Cavendish began, “I feel sometimes like the perfect job for me just doesn’t exist.”

“I know that feeling,” Dakota said leaning back and glancing at the sun, “Like I’m outta place, y’know?”

“Like how you wear sunglasses inside buildings?” Cavendish joked with a wry smile. 

“Hey!” Dakota couldn’t stop himself from smiling while pretending to be offended, “You wear a hat inside buildings! And I’ve never heard of a concert pianist who wears a hat.” 

They both laughed at each other and themselves. Through his laughter Cavendish continued, “You own a minigolf course but you have no idea how to play minigolf or how this place even operates!”

“You’re a concert pianist who has no interest in the piano!” Dakota said it as a joke and Cavendish said his as joke but they both stopped laughing. They both looked at each other with identical confused frowns, “This, this doesn’t,” Dakota said it slowly not sure what the words he was saying even meant, “This doesn’t feel, this doesn’t feel right.” 

“We don’t,” Cavendish looked Dakota up and down and looked himself up and down and still didn’t understand, “we don’t belong here.”

They stared at each other unable to articulate anything else beyond that but having no idea why they felt that way. They sat this way until the windmill they’d just rebuilt crashed to the ground.

“Sorry!” They looked up at where the voice was coming from. Milo popped out of the bushes at the edge of the minigolf course followed by Melissa and Zack. 

“Kids?” Dakota could barely get the word out as his whole chest felt a ghostly aching. 

“So did you guys figure it out?” Zack asked as the three rushed up to them, “Please tell me you know how to fix this!”

“Fix what, exactly?” Cavendish asked, so horribly confused and feeling that same ache in his own chest. 

“I thought you two realized it,” Melissa sighed. 

“Well, we were gonna tell them anyway,” Milo said shrugging to his friends. 

“Tell us what?” Dakota asked a little too loudly. 

“We are all not supposed to be here,” Melissa began, “You two are time travellers, or at least you were, are? Ugh, this is as confusing as Doctor Zone Files.”

“What?” Cavendish asked.

“I forgot, that show doesn’t exist here,” Melissa said crossing her arms.

“Anyway,” Zack continued, “We think some other time traveller changed the past so much, that we are in an alternate time line.”

“And we want back to the old one!” Milo exclaimed, “everything here is so different!”

“My dad thinks my name is Jane,” Melissa said.

“My boy band never existed!” Zack said.

“The sewers are laid out differently!” Milo cried. They all looked at him. “What? I had the other one down so perfectly, they can’t go changing on me.” 

“Wait. Wait. Wait, hold on,” Dakota put up his hands, “We, Cavendish and I, we are time travellers?”

“Yup!” Milo said lighting up.

“If that’s true, and I’m sorry I’m really not following it, why do we not remember and you do?” Cavendish asked.

“Well,” Zack said as they all looked between each other, “We don’t really understand how time travel alternate dimensions work.”

“But the night it happened we were trapped under a giant metal dome in the planetarium,” Melissa said, “which is why I think we three remember but no one else does.” 

“A giant metal dome?” Cavendish asked wearily.

“The giant sun model fell on us!” Milo explained chipperly, “Luckily for us it was hollow! But it was heavy, it took us all night to get out, once we did, the whole world was different!” 

“We found Dakota pretty quickly,” Melissa explained, “But you didn’t recognize us, we didn’t want to bring up time travel and make you think we were crazy or something.”

“It’s not exactly making sense now,” Dakota said.

“Well, we were hoping Cavendish would be a time traveller in this dimension but it turns out he’s not either, and we thought maybe you could jog each other’s memories,” Zack sighed, “We’re never gonna get back to our timeline!” 

“Do you believe us at least?” Melissa asked.

“Kids, I don’t know,” Dakota sighed, “This is a lot to take in.”

Cavendish didn’t know what to say to this so he just looked to Dakota who stared at him with a kind of pity, not for Cavendish, but for the situation in general. 

“Well,” Dakota said, “You kids are right about something, this world, this life, doesn’t feel right. You felt it too Cavendish.”

“I did,” Cavendish said solemnly. 

“And I trust you kids more than any other person, ever, so yeah I believe you,” Dakota relented. 

“I believe you too,” Cavendish said because that feeling he felt every time he got up to play the piano was a miniature version of this intense out of place feeling that was filling him. 

“Well kids, you got us hooked, any idea how to fix this?” Dakota asked, “How long have you kids been stuck here?”

“A month,” Milo said sadly, “we just want to go home. I miss my dog.”

“We have a plan,” Melissa said, “but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Go ahead,” Cavendish said straightening up. 

“You’re playing a concert for an important diplomat tonight, right Cavendish?” Zack began, he nodded.

“Well that diplomat happens to care a whole lot about classical music,” Melissa explained, “So if that show were to go horribly, and I mean horribly wrong, big, big changes might happen to the timestream. A time traveller might come back and either switch the world back to normal, or at least come back to stop us and we could ask them to change the world back,” Melissa said confidently, “I’ve been working this out for some time.”

“You should see her whole room about it,” Zack said.

“How would we sabotage it?” Dakota asked.

“If I show up,” Milo said, “chances are what can go wrong will.”

“And since you’re in the show Cavendish, you could play badly on purpose!” Zack explained, “And Dakota you can help us cause chaos backstage, just in case Murphy’s Law isn’t enough.”

“I’d lose my job, if this doesn’t go well,” Cavendish said, Dakota looked like he was about to say something about how he didn’t have to do it, but Cavendish interrupted that, “I’m in.”

Dakota smiled small, “So am I.”

“Alright!” The three kids said in unision.

“Let’s get going then!” Milo said and the kids headed for the street. 

Cavendish got up to follow them but Dakota grabbed his elbow, Cavendish turned to look Dakota in the eye. Dakota’s frown was upturned just slightly and his eyes were half closed as the last red of the sun dipped behind the horizon, “Hey Cav.”

“Yes Dakota?”

“I know this world doesn’t feel right and all, but I think, I think,” He looked down at his shoes, the words Dakota was saying were coming from that ache in his chest, they felt sad and empty, he looked back up at Cavendish, “But I think it could’ve been okay. Could this world’ve been okay?”

Cavendish didn’t respond, not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he knew exactly what the answer was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this isn't technically an AU after all and is my zag on 'em of the year


	3. A Total Waste of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any more "witty" observations about minigolf as a word.....thanks for all the comments! Have this little epilogue, thanks for reading!

Cavendish and Dakota leaned up against the wheezing and clunking car they called a time machine. Dakota always insisted that the machine, as consistently outdated as it was, was purposely made for them. Not in a personalized handcrafted way, but in a spiteful “make them look ridiculous” way. It seemed like it was rigged to shift into whatever version of the bland green car would look the worst to outsiders. Cavendish at first disagreed, but he’d stopped sometime after the first bad pistachio future, which was maybe a win for Dakota but he didn’t really count it. 

“Dakota! Cavendish!” The sound of the street lamp beside them crashing into their time machine didn’t quite cover up Milo’s excited calls. 

“Hey kids,” Dakota said letting his shoulders fall from tense, as Cavendish looked at the car and sighed as the three of them ran up to them. 

“We did it!” Zach looked at them both pumping his fist in the air.

“All thanks to Melissa!” Milo said taking her hand and raising it like she’d won an award.

“Thank you, thank you,” she said south of graciously, “but you guys helped out a lot too.”

“Uh, sorry kids you’ve lost me,” Dakota said pushing up his sunglasses and crossing his arms.

“You don’t remember here either?” Melissa said clicking her tongue, “I didn’t think so.”

“I’m afraid not, kids,” Cavendish said the word “kids” with a mixture of fondness and unfamiliarity that Dakota might have teased him for if he wasn’t so confused. 

“We were in an alternate universe and you were there but you weren’t you but you were super similar,” Milo began, pointer finger on his chin as he went on and on, “And you couldn’t time travel and we couldn't either it was crazy!”

“An alternate universe?” Dakota hoped he didn’t sound too suspiciously worried because Cav looked over at him, narrowing his eyes only slightly.

“Yeah, but we fixed it back,” Zach said.

“How did you manage that?” Cavendish looked away from Dakota, and Dakota let out a breath, “Without time travel no less!”

“Well, all of us, including the you two of that world,” Zach explained and looked at them directly before continuing, “this is so weird, anyway, we messed up a concert and then we were back in the planetarium in this world.”

_“Planetarium?” _Dakota mouthed to Cav who only looked halfway to distressed.__

____

____

“We aren’t entirely sure what led to someone coming back in time to change the world back,” Melissa explained, “we ended up causing a lot of problems.”

“Well, what kinds of problems did you create?” Cav asked.

“We made an important diplomat furious with how badly the performance went,” Zach started, “the sand in the instruments probably didn’t help.”

“Milo just being there caused the historic concert hall to be more or less destroyed,” Melissa said after some thought.

“We knocked over a pistachio cart to get the racoons to come inside the building,” Milo added.

Cavendish and Dakota shared a look. “We may never know which one the Bureau thought too important not to change,” Cav said sullenly. 

“It could have been any of them,” Dakota said in a similar low tone, but he looked at the kids and his expression softened and he hoped the answer to his next question wouldn’t be hard to hear, “how long were you guys there?”

“A month,” Zach said dodging his gaze. 

And that really floored Dakota, his mouth quirked up in a sad half-smile, his voice bright and as him as he could get it, “Nice job saving the timestream kids we’ll take you guys out for icecream or something!”

“Actually we should be getting to school,” Milo admitted.

“What!” Cavendish gasped, “You’re skipping?” a beat, “It’s morning?”

“We just missed the bus,” Milo said rolling his eyes playfully, “we weren’t going to make it on time anyway.”

“Okay icecream later, you kids make your way to school okay?” Dakota said waving them goodbye.

“Ugh! But we already went to these school days,” Zach complained but as far as Dakota could tell, he seemed, they all seemed, to take it lightly.

“Resourceful, they truly would make amazing time agents,” Cav said once they had left their sight. 

“Way better than Brick and Savannah, light years ahead of them,” Dakota agreed. 

“I wonder,” Cavendish said, words trailing, “No, nevermind.”

“What? Come on Cav,” Dakota asked nudging him with his shoulder. 

“Hm, I just wondered, what we were like in the alternate timeline,” Cavendish said, “I suppose it’s no use wondering, we could ask the children over ice cream or what have you.”

“Do you want to know?” Dakota asked, “what if we were vampires? Or worse, rude?”

“We weren’t rude,” Cavendish decided. 

Dakota pulled out his era appropriate phone and started looking at map websites, “Well Cav, it seems we’ve got the whole day ahead of us and a broken time machine behind us.”

“What do you propose we do?” Cavendish asked suddenly weary again having just remembered the lamppost flickering in the bright morning light, glass covering the hood of the car. 

“Hey! I found something close. Look at this!” Dakota shoved the phone in Cav’s face.

Cav took it from him and pushed up his own glasses, squinting his eyes as he read, “Minigolf Adventure Land?”

“It’s the perfect place,” Dakota said, “It’s got two stars, which means it’s the second best. Right?” he said scrunching up his brow not entirely sure.

“Dakota?”

“Yes?”

“What is “golf”?”

“I have no idea!” Dakota said with misplaced enthusiasm, “It probably doesn’t exist in the future.”

“Perhaps it died out for a reason,” Cavendish said dryly. 

“Let’s find out! Besides, it’s “mini”, smaller things are always better,” Dakota reasoned, “And if it’s cool, we’ll take the kids there and we won’t look like losers ‘cuz we’ll know how, how it tastes?” Dakota’s voice went higher as the sentence went on. 

“I suppose this won’t be a total waste of time,” Cavendish said.

“I’m glad you agree, let’s go,” Dakota took Cavendish’s hand as he pulled him to the spot. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but Cav didn’t seem to mind because he gripped the hand back allowing himself to be led. 

There was a spot in Dakota’s chest that he felt acutely the moment Cav asked what they were like in the other world. It was a weird small feeling that, as soon as he took Cav’s hand, slowly faded away so later he forgot all about it and it never bothered him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I want there to be this very specific fanfiction fully formed and ready for me to read  
> My Brain: If you want that you have to write it  
> Me: Ugh but you're right


End file.
